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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146599">A Love That Won't Sit Still</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebonemoose/pseuds/Thebonemoose'>Thebonemoose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Magnus and Lukas (beans and books, babey!) [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Coffeeshop/Bookstore au, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confession, Love as a choice, M/M, On purpose on purpose I am going to care about you, friends to idiots to lovers, idiots to lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:53:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebonemoose/pseuds/Thebonemoose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jon and Martin get their happy ending.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker &amp; Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Jonathan Sims &amp; Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan Sims &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Magnus and Lukas (beans and books, babey!) [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>394</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Coffee shop patrons be like “we poppin the biggest bottles when jonmartin becomes canon”</p>
<p>Here we are, y'all! We made it. It's been two months but here we are. If you're new here,  stop reading and go all the way back to the beginning of the series or else you'll miss out on crucial character development. And lots of jokes. </p>
<p>I have to say... writing this was so hard. I have no idea why but it was like pulling teeth. It's fine though, it's been thoroughly edited and is now fit for human consumption. Bon Apetit. </p>
<p>Title is from Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng! With no further ado, here's the finale.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things between Martin and Jon were… different. </p>
<p>Jon felt the change tangibly, as if there were a string between Martin and Jon that used to be knotted and twisted, but now hung easily from its anchor points in their bodies.</p>
<p>After spending the night with Martin (not like <em>that,</em> Tim) they’d been…closer. They spent more time together, and they occupied each others’ space more easily. It felt natural. </p>
<p>Unfortunately for Jon, spending so much time around Martin meant that he was now incapable of doing much except chuckling nervously whenever Martin looked at him. </p>
<p>Which happened a lot. </p>
<p>Needless to say, that had attracted some attention. </p>
<p>He knew the store employees (and several of the regulars) whispered about him and Martin. Jon saw how they would point and smile whenever Martin and Jon were standing close, likely speculating wildly about the nature of their relationship. Tim, Sasha, and Georgie were among the worst perpetrators.</p>
<p>Daisy, if she was there, would give Jon an encouraging thumbs-up with whatever hand was not wrapped around Basira, and then she would wink conspiratorially. </p>
<p>Jon would <em>like</em>to say that he appreciated it, except Daisy was not subtle in the least, so any time she did this, Tim and Georgie would both join in, winking with greater and greater exaggeration.</p>
<p>Jon was getting a bit tired of the constant support, to be honest. </p>
<p>Martin seemed to feel the same way. Once, Tim had taken him aside five times in an hour-long period just to...talk to him about Jon’s big, obvious crush? Jon didn’t actually know, but Martin came back after the fifth time and refused to meet Jon’s eye, his cheeks a flaming red. </p>
<p>But it had only been a few days since Martin had returned, so Jon hoped that all this excitement about his and Martin’s <em>newfound platonic closeness</em> would die down sooner or later. </p>
<p>Still, Jon could admit (if only to himself) that he liked feeling like he and Martin were on a team, just the two of them. Everybody else might be out of their minds, obsessed with something Jon did not entirely understand, but he could count on Martin to look to Jon, shrug helplessly, and smile. </p>
<p>It always made Jon want to reach out his hand and take Martin’s, like he had that night. He never did, though. </p>
<p><em>Not even</em> when Martin had motioned to the giddy crowd in front of the counter and leaned in to Jon’s space, then amusedly whispered, “Does it seem like they’re waiting for something to you?”</p>
<p>Jon wanted to grab Martin’s hand so bad in that moment he imagined his own hand was tingling with hope. He steadied himself, nodded emphatically, and replied, “Yes, it is extremely off-putting.”</p>
<p>And then Martin had laughed, joyful and unencumbered, and Jon decided in that moment that he could never alter their friendship by introducing romance to the mix. No, he would not say anything about his feelings. No good could come of it. </p>
<p>Still, Martin <em>had</em> to know. It was impossible not to. </p>
<p>Martin did not necessarily have to know about Jon’s feelings, although to himself and everyone else he knew they were painfully obvious. No, Martin had to know about this <em>shift</em> between them. </p>
<p>Jon would occasionally see Martin glance at him whenever he thought Jon wasn’t looking. He tried to catch Martin, sometimes, but he was always too quick to turn back to his own task. </p>
<p>As easy as the transition had felt, Jon still worried that he was acting awkwardly around Martin. He wasn’t sure how to be natural around him with this new dynamic. What was too familiar? What was too distant? Was this a friendly touch on the shoulder, or one that played as romantic? Where was the line?</p>
<p>Jon sighed and paused his work. He was wiping at the counter, and Martin was in the back organizing the mix-ins. </p>
<p>A stubborn, insane part of Jon suggested asking Martin to go out to eat with him on their break. </p>
<p><em>No</em>, he wasn’t going to do it. It was too much like a date, it would freak Martin out.</p>
<p>
  <em>But then again, they were so much closer than before, and they always took their breaks together anyways…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe if he phrased it right, he could be clear it was just a friendly offer, and then Martin wouldn’t need to feel bad about saying no.</em>
</p>
<p>Alright, then. Jon would do it. He nodded to Melanie, who ignored him, and made his way to the backroom.</p>
<p>Martin was standing with his back to the door, admiring his work.</p>
<p>“Martin?” Jon asked.</p>
<p>Martin turned, his expression open. “Hey, Jon,” he said, smiling.</p>
<p>Jon swallowed. “I’m going out for lunch, would you like to join me?” </p>
<p>Martin’s face brightened, his eyes wide in surprise. “S-sure! Yeah! Let me just grab my coat, I’ll meet you outside,” he said, grinning, and Jon felt triumph bloom in his chest.</p>
<p>Jon waited for Martin just outside the shop. The door opened, and Martin stuck his head out with a grin. “Ready to go?” he asked, exiting the shop fully and smiling. Jon nodded, his tongue suddenly too heavy to speak. </p>
<p>Jon led them to a cozy little sandwich shop, and he held the door open for Martin, who smiled brilliantly and thanked Jon. </p>
<p>They ordered, and brought their food back to a small table near the window. They ate in comfortable silence, the hands occasionally bumping. It made Martin chuckle and stammer out an apology, and Jon would smile and laugh it away.</p>
<p>“Have you got any weekend plans, then?” Martin asked suddenly.</p>
<p>Jon sat up, his brow furrowed. “No… not really. I might catch up on some reading, though. What about you?” He asked, and took another bite.</p>
<p>Martin shrugged. “Might go out with Sasha, but I don’t know yet. I’m trying to spend more time with people outside of work, especially after…” he looked down.</p>
<p>“After your mom?” Jon finished gently.</p>
<p>Martin smiled slightly, and nodded. “Actually, that’s part of why I’m glad you asked me to come today,” he admitted.</p>
<p>Jon's heart was beating a rapid rhythm against his sternum. “Well… I’m very glad to have you with me,” he said softly, and almost backpedaled, but then he caught sight of Martin’s expression. </p>
<p>Martin was looking at Jon with a soft, awed expression, the ghost of a smile on his lips.</p>
<p>Jon had to remind himself to breathe. </p>
<p>“Er,” Martin said, blushing. “We should— we should do this again sometime.”</p>
<p>Jon nodded instantly. “Yes! Yes, I agree,” he replied, just a bit too eager. </p>
<p>Martin grinned, and returned to his food.</p>
<p>They chatted amicably the entire walk back to work, and that time, Martin was the one to hold the door open for Jon (who, for the entirety of the walk home, was repeating <em>this is not a date, this is not a date, this is NOT a DATE</em> over and over in his head).</p>
<p>The rest of the work day passed by far slower than the first half, and doubly as boring. Jon left work early, thankful that he did not have to close, and began replaying the events of their not-date in his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon asked him to share their break again the next week. Martin had grinned just as brightly as last time, and nodded. </p>
<p>“There’s a park a block or two away, do you want to go there? The weather’s nice enough,” Martin said.</p>
<p>“Sure, Martin, that sounds lovely,” Jon agreed, and they took their lunches to the park. Martin found them a nice bench to sit on, partially shaded by an oak tree.</p>
<p>The air was cool and pleasant, and the sun shone down and washed the verdant park in a golden-yellow. </p>
<p>“It’s a beautiful day,” Martin said.</p>
<p>Jon crunched down on a carrot. “It is,” he agreed easily, gazing out at the distant people walking with their pets or spouses or children. “Do you like to people-watch, Martin?” He asked, still staring straight ahead. </p>
<p>He saw Martin shrug from the corner of his eye. “Sure, I suppose. Not so much when I’m alone, though. I get bored.” </p>
<p>Jon hummed. “When I was a boy, I used to do it a lot. My grandmother would do her best to keep me entertained, but— well, you know me. I tore through books quicker than a flame, and so sometimes if she had to run an errand, whatever I brought along to entertain me would prove insufficient. </p>
<p>“Yeah, that tracks,” Martin said, laughing. </p>
<p>Jon nodded. “As a last resort, I would sit and watch the people around us. I was still bored, to tell the truth. But at least it was something. Stil, I think I agree with you, Martin.”</p>
<p>“About what?” Martin asked easily. </p>
<p>“It is more fun when you’re with someone else.” Jon could not help but smile fondly, and was rewarded with an answering grin of Martin’s own. </p>
<p>Martin pointed somewhere off in the distance. “You see that couple?”</p>
<p>Jon narrowed his eyes, tracing the line of Martin’s index finger. When he found the people in question, he nodded.</p>
<p>“Do you think they’re friends?” Martin asked. It was such a simple question, but it was so <em>Martin</em>. </p>
<p>Jon hid his smile and raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to?”</p>
<p>Martin shrugged. “Business associates,” he said with a cheeky grin. </p>
<p>Jon rolled his eyes and took another look. The taller woman was leaning down towards the shorter woman slightly, their two hands bumping together as they walked. “I don’t think they’re business associates,” he said.</p>
<p>Martin frowned.</p>
<p>The two women stopped walking and faced each other, then the taller woman leaned down and kissed the shorter.</p>
<p>“Definitely not friends, either,” Jon said, laughing. </p>
<p>Martin chuckled, and took a sip of water. “Good for them! I always knew those crazy kids would make it work.”</p>
<p>Jon turned to look at him. “You know them?” He asked, surprised. </p>
<p>Martin snorted. “No.” </p>
<p>Jon barked out a laugh, and Martin smiled wide, the tip of his tongue pressed between his top and bottom teeth. </p>
<p>They spent the rest of their break speculating on the random passers-by they saw from their bench, occasionally laughing at something the other had said. </p>
<p>Jon realized, as they walked back to the shop in an easy silence, that he hadn’t really known how to be alone with Martin before he went to his flat that evening. Apparently, holding hands with someone while you both sleep in the same bed solved that problem quite easily. </p>
<p>When they returned to work, Martin smiled at Jon, and said “This is nice. Let’s keep doing it.”</p>
<p>Jon did not trust himself to say anything that didn’t sound too much like a vow in response to that, so he nodded.</p>
<p>They did, in fact, continue. After a few weeks, Jon stopped asking if Martin wanted to join him for their break. The answer was always yes. Sometimes they went to the park, or a cafe. Other times they ate in the break room, making quiet conversation. </p>
<p>Then Martin challenged the status quo, and invited Jon over to his flat for dinner. He was adorably awkward about it, sputtering and stumbling over his words until Jon put a hand over Martin’s, and said “I’d love to. Should I bring anything?”</p>
<p>Martin needn’t have been worried, as it turned out. They had a lovely time that evening, and things were as easy between them as they had ever been.</p>
<p>That was how it went. They’d spend all day together at work, and eat dinner together. Occasionally, they would fall asleep on the couch together, watching some documentary. Those nights were Jon’s favorite. He always woke with a crick in his neck and stiff limbs, but it was worth it, to spend all night slotted against Martin’s side. </p>
<p>Martin evidently didn’t mind, either, because it kept happening, regardless of whose flat they were in. </p>
<p>Jon smiled at the memory, and returned his attention to the vegetables he was sauteing. </p>
<p>A knock sounded at the door, and then it opened to reveal Martin, holding a bouquet of flowers. “Hello, Jon! Hope you don’t mind, I let myself in,” he said, and entered the kitchen. </p>
<p>Jon shook his head, chuckling. “That’s fine, Martin. Come on in.” He turned around and received a bunch of flowers in his face. He spluttered and stepped back. “ What’s this?” he asked, and pointed to the flowers with a wooden spatula. </p>
<p>“Those are flowers,” Martin replied easily, a self-satisfied grin blooming on his face. </p>
<p>“Smart-ass. I <em>mean</em> why are they here?” Jon asked, a teasing sm</p>
<p>“Oh, they’re for you.” Martin thrust the bouquet towards Jon, still smiling. </p>
<p>“Oh...Thank you.” Jon accepted the flowers, ignoring the way his stomach flipped. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I thought I’d be a good guest for once,” Martin laughed, rubbing his neck. </p>
<p>Jon chuckled. “Well, you did barge in here unannounced,” he reminded gently, grabbing a vase. </p>
<p>Martin squawked. “Not unannounced! I knocked, <em>then</em> I barged. That’s semi-announced, at the very least.” He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “Anyway, what smells good?” Martin said, then moved towards the stove to smell what was cooking. </p>
<p>“Vegetables,” he said simply, adding more garlic. “Actually, can you taste it and tell me what it needs?” Jon asked, filling the vase with water. </p>
<p>Martin nodded and brought the wooden spatula to his mouth. He grimaced exaggeratedly. “Oh, Jon, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s horrible.”</p>
<p>Jon narrowed his eyes and snatched the spatula from Martin, then took a taste for himself. “You’re a rotten liar, Mr. Blackwood,” he said triumphantly. “This tastes delicious.”</p>
<p>“I could fool you if I tried,” Martin said, unphased. </p>
<p>He snorted. “You have tried, and you did fool me.”</p>
<p>Martin smirked and cocked his head. “Oh yeah. We should do that again sometime.”</p>
<p>Jon rolled his eyes. “We should <em>not</em>.”</p>
<p>They had dinner not long after, and Martin told a story about how Tim was attempting to play a prank on Simon Fairchild. Tim’s plan was as ridiculous and nonsensical as Jon assumed it would be. </p>
<p>“What does Sasha think of his plan?” Jon asked, laughing. </p>
<p>“Oh, she thinks it’s horrible. She made one that’s loads better, but Tim refused to accept her help, ‘cause, ‘some things a man has to do for himself’.”</p>
<p>Jon scoffed. “That’s a mistake.”</p>
<p>Martin nodded. “I think she and Basira may be planning their own prank on Fairchild. I’m not actually sure.”</p>
<p>Jon raises his eyebrows. “Basira? Really? I never saw her as the pranking sort, I have to be honest.”</p>
<p>“I think it’s more about beating Tim,” Martin said, and Jon laughed. </p>
<p>After dinner, Martin and Jon stood side by side in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes, respectively. </p>
<p>“Thanks for dinner, Jon,” Martin said quietly, focused on his task. </p>
<p>“Thanks for doing the washing up,” Jon responded.</p>
<p>“Well fair’s fair, isn’t it?” Martin said, glancing at Jon with a mischievous smile. </p>
<p>Jon bit his cheek to keep from smiling back. </p>
<p>That was one of the things Jon loved about Martin, he fit so easily into Jon’s spaces. Before Martin, the only one of Jon’s friends who had been to his flat had been Georgie. His home was an extremely private place for Jon, one that he had no idea how to share. </p>
<p>But… well.</p>
<p> It was always easy with Martin, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>“Can I say something, Jon?” Martin asked suddenly, his voice quiet and pensive. </p>
<p>Jon’s pulse picked up, but he nodded. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Martin shut the faucet off and rested his wrists on the edge of the sink, his brow furrowed. “I told you that for most of my childhood, it was just me and my mum, right?” </p>
<p>Jon nodded. </p>
<p>“And I told you how I’ve been supporting her for the past decade, of course.”</p>
<p>Jon nodded again. </p>
<p>“I know you know that for me-- growing up, I mean-- nothing was ever good enough for her. Nothing I did or said, no lengths I went to was ever sufficient. That’s why I was the way that I was. Am the way that I am? Whatever, either way, that obviously affected me deeply.” Martin sighed, and turned to Jon. </p>
<p>“You know how tired I am of feeling like shit, Jon. Of giving everything I have. You know how exhausting that is for me,” Martin said. </p>
<p>Jon nodded solemnly. “I do.”</p>
<p>Martin took a breath. “I’ve decided to see a therapist. I’m not just going to ‘grow out’ of having no idea how to set boundaries for myself. I have to learn it on purpose.” Martin looked at Jon and smiled a determined, shy little smile. </p>
<p>Jon smiled widely. “That’s wonderful, Martin. That can’t have been a-- a simple decision,” he replied.</p>
<p>Martin nodded. “Thank you. You know, I think it wasn’t, but it kind of feels like it was? It’s the only real thing I can do, you know? I have no other way to get over the trauma my mum put me through,” he sighed. </p>
<p>Jon put his hand on Martin’s arm. “I’m proud of you for taking that step, Martin,” he said. </p>
<p>Martin grinned. “Me too, Jon. And-- can I just say? Thanks for… letting me talk to you about this stuff. It really--it means a lot.”</p>
<p>“It’s no trouble at all,” Jon said, and ignored the thickness in his throat. Martin returned to washing dishes, and Jon thought he seemed lighter. Unburdened. </p>
<p>Martin left after the kitchen was clean. Jon hugged him goodbye, and shut the door quietly behind him. He sat down at the kitchen table where the vase of flowers sat. Jon slumped in his chair and studied the bouquet.</p>
<p>There was not a single rose to be seen. Part of Jon was disappointed, but the rest of him was staring at the sweet peas and feeling overcome with affection for his best friend, who was trying to get better. Who was undeniably the kindest person Jon had ever known. Who Jon was still <em>very</em> much in love with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright gang, let’s get to business,” Tim said seriously, addressing Sasha, Nikola, Annabelle, and Georgie. Nikola rolled her eyes, and Tim felt a stab of irritation. </p>
<p>“Look, they’re going to get together on their own time. Just leave them to it, yeah?” came a voice from behind Tim. He turned to see Basira leaning against a bookshelf, looking bored. </p>
<p>Tim sighed. “Basira, we have a plan, okay? And it’s foolproof.”</p>
<p>She shrugged, and walked away.. </p>
<p>Tim turned back to the group. “Alright, what’s our foolproof plan?”</p>
<p>“While it’s nice that they’re best friends and all, I do think we should talk about finding ways to force them together. It’s taking too long. Some of us have bets to win,” Georgie said, folding her arms. </p>
<p>Sasha frowned. “You made bets on Jon and Martin?”</p>
<p>Georgie shrugged. “Only, like, two. And I was going to give them presents with the money I won.”</p>
<p>“Okay, betting aside, do you have any ideas, Georgie?” Tim asked her. </p>
<p>“Sure, I have ideas. The first thing to do--”</p>
<p>“I have to be honest, I don’t think you should orchestrate situations to make Jon and Martin closer,” Annabelle interrupted.. </p>
<p>Georgie sighed, and closed her mouth.</p>
<p>“Why’s that?” Tim asked, turning to Annabelle.  </p>
<p>“It’s too obvious-- It’s heavy-handed. These two require delicacy. They need everything to feel organic, or they won’t let their guards down enough to be vulnerable,” she explained. </p>
<p>Tim narrowed his eyes. “We will take it under advisement,” he said noncommittally, and Annabelle shrugged. She and Nikola stood, and wordlessly walked away. </p>
<p>Tim turned back to Sasha and Georgie. “Georgie, you were saying?”</p>
<p>“Well, first we need to lock them in a closet together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martin was not <em>entirely</em> sure how he and Jon came to be trapped in a broom closet together, but he wasn’t complaining. </p>
<p>“I swear to god, Tim did this on purpose,” Jon mumbled darkly as he jiggled the door handle. </p>
<p>Which, yeah. That was extremely possible. But Tim wouldn’t leave them in there for very long, even if he <em>had</em> trapped them there in the first place. Martin decided to just sit and wait. It couldn’t be long until someone found them.</p>
<p>Jon began pacing along the length of two floor tiles, his body tense. </p>
<p>“Are you alright, Jon?” Martin asked, perched on a crate.</p>
<p>Jon huffed. “I don’t like small spaces.”</p>
<p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em> Not good. </p>
<p>“Okay, well, why don’t you sit here and focus on your breathing, and I’ll try to get someone’s attention?” he offered, and relinquished his make-shift seat to Jon. </p>
<p>Martin pulled his cell from his pocket and pressed Tim’s contact. </p>
<p>“You have your phone on you?!” Jon asked, eyes wide. </p>
<p>“Oh, Jon, nobody pays attention to the ‘No Phones’ rule but you,” he said, and called Tim. </p>
<p>“Helloooo?” Tim sang. </p>
<p>“Hi, Tim. Jon and I are locked in the broom closet <em>which I am sure you know nothing about</em>, and we need you to let us out. Hurry up, Jon doesn’t like small spaces,” he said, and heard Tim suck in air through his teeth.</p>
<p>“Oh, shit. Be there in a moment!” Tim replied, and hung up. </p>
<p>Tim freed them a minute later, and Jon rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled shakily. Tim avoided Jon’s gaze in a manner that was <em>very</em> suspicious, and Martin decided to have a conversation with him about his pranks. But that could wait until later. For now, Martin’s priority was making sure Jon was alright. </p>
<p>He shot Tim one last dirty look. Tim had the sense to look remorseful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, Georgie? That was a terrible idea.” Tim leveled her with a glare.</p>
<p>Georgie sighed. “Yeah, we for sure owe Jon an apology. By ‘we’ I do mean mostly me.”</p>
<p>“Let’s keep our schemes as harmless as possible, yeah?” Sasha suggested, grimacing. </p>
<p>Tim and Georgie both nodded. “No arguments here,” Tim replied. </p>
<p>They were silent for a moment. </p>
<p>“What about flowers?” Sasha asked suddenly. </p>
<p>“What <em>about</em> flowers?” Georgie said, her brows furrowed. </p>
<p>“We have someone give Jon free flowers, and then he’ll give them to Martin, because he likes Martin, and then they’ll be one step closer to a love confession!” Sasha said, clapping her hands together once. “It’s perfect! We just need to figure out if Jon and Martin are allergic to any flowers.”</p>
<p>Tim smiled. “This could work, Sasha.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It did not work. </p>
<p>They discovered that neither Jon nor Martin were allergic to any flowers, which made things easier. However, Sasha’s plan had one glaring oversight: they assumed Jon would ever do anything romantic on purpose.</p>
<p>They paid someone to hand Jon the flowers, which had gone smoothly. And Jon accepted them, a bit bewildered. <em>Then</em> Jon gave them away to an old woman he saw on his way into work. The woman had smiled, surprised, and thanked him. Jon had ducked his head, blushing.</p>
<p>Martin had seen the whole thing, from his spot outside the shop, cleaning the windows. When he came inside, his face was red and his fists were tightly clenched. </p>
<p>Tim knew from experience that this meant he was having <em>a lot</em> of thoughts and feelings about something Jon had done. </p>
<p>Tim sighed, and called Georgie and Sasha back in to the shop from their hidden posts along the street.</p>
<p>“New plan, ladies. We talk to them,” Tim said when they were all in the bookstore once again. </p>
<p>“And say what?” Sasha asked. </p>
<p>“I don’t know. We could gossip about what the other thinks of them,” Tim said, shrugging. </p>
<p>“Right, because gossip is such a reliable tool,” Sasha said, her face a perfect mask of skepticism. </p>
<p>“Exactly, now you’re getting it,” Tim said, and winked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Georgie kept trying to talk to Jon about Martin. </p>
<p>It was...<em>highly</em> suspicious. </p>
<p>Jon still engaged with her, though. There was no profound reason for it. He just wanted to talk about Martin, and Georgie was willing to listen. </p>
<p>So they took the occasional walk, each grasping a travel-mug of tea, and Jon would spend the next hour or so waxing poetic about Martin’s smile, or his freckles, or the fact that his hands were both warm <em>and</em> soft, and didn’t have the annoying habit of becoming sweaty after a while, like Jon’s. </p>
<p>Georgie would nod in all the right places, and occasionally type something on her phone, and smile and sigh when Jon expected her to. </p>
<p>She was very good at pretending to listen patiently. Jon admired that. </p>
<p>This continued for the better part of a week, then Tim came in Georgie’s stead. </p>
<p>“Where’s Georgie?” Jon had asked. </p>
<p>Tim just toasted his travel mug against Jon’s. “We’re tag-teaming,” was all he said by way of explanation, so Jon simply sighed, and started filling Tim in. </p>
<p>Jon never thought himself a particularly romantic person. He was sensible, and tried to do things for logical reasons. </p>
<p>This didn’t <em>entirely</em> go out the window when he fell in love with Martin, but it did take a hit, if Jon was honest. </p>
<p>Judging by the way Tim was openly weeping ten minutes after Jon had begun speaking, it was a bigger change than he had realized. </p>
<p>“Tim, are you crying?” Jon had asked, very near to panic. </p>
<p>Tim sniffled and nodded. “That’s so beautiful, Jon! I’m so happy for you,” he sobbed. </p>
<p>Jon grimaced and awkwardly wrapped an arm around Tim, who did not hesitate to shuffle closer and lean his head down on Jon’s bony shoulder. </p>
<p>“You’re a good friend but a terrible pillow,” Tim said tearfully. </p>
<p>“S-sorry?”</p>
<p>“I forgive you. Tell me more.”</p>
<p>Jon complied, and Tim proved to be a much more engaged audience than Georgie had. He didn’t take notes for whatever shady project those two were involved in together, his nods and sighs and smiles were always authentic-- and he cried. Multiple times. </p>
<p>“How does Sasha deal with you when you’re like this?” Jon asked, bemused, then realized how rude it came out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--”</p>
<p>Tim paid him no mind. “Pretty much the same as you’re doing. You’re not a bad stand-in, really,” Tim said, wiping his eyes. </p>
<p>Jon frowned. “I don’t know how I feel about that,” he replied. </p>
<p>“It’s a compliment.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware.”</p>
<p>Tim rolled his eyes and gently shoved Jon away from him. “Alright, back to the subject: Martin.”</p>
<p>“Martin,” Jon echoed, his words heavy. </p>
<p>“Do you think you’ll tell him?” Tim asked. </p>
<p>Jon stilled. He frowned, and took a moment to think. “I… I don’t know. Maybe,” he answered. “A few months ago, I was sure that I would not tell him. But now....It feels wrong to say no. And it feels wrong to say yes, too.”</p>
<p>“Why does it feel wrong to say yes?” Tim said gently. </p>
<p>Jon sighed and took a seat on a nearby bench. “It feels like-- like I would be putting the burden of my emotions on Martin. Of… Of my feelings for him. And I could never do that to him. I’m perfectly comfortable letting Martin define the parameters of our friendship. In fact, it’s going spectacularly well. I have no reason to ask for anything other than this. Because-- what, I’m <em>in love</em> with him?”</p>
<p>“Many people would say that’s reason enough,” Tim remarked. </p>
<p>“That’s fine for them, then. But not for me. Martin is-- he’s too dear to me. He’s been through so much because of other people’s expectations. I’ll be damned if I let mine be another bar to measure himself by,” Jon said, his tone steely. </p>
<p>“Fair enough,” Tim replied quietly. They sat for another moment on the bench, letting the silence settle between them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “So! What have we learned?” Georgie asked. </p>
<p>Sasha leaned her head back in her chair. “That these two fools are ridiculously in love with each other. And ridiculously stupid about it.”</p>
<p>Tim buried his face in his hands. “They’re <em>perfect</em> for each other! And neither of them is willing to talk about it!” He shouted, although the words came out a bit muffled. </p>
<p>“Well, we already drew the line at telling them how the other feels,” Georgie reminded. </p>
<p>“It’s too shitty, we can’t do that to them,” Sasha stated. Tim nodded. </p>
<p>“So… Now what?” Georgie returned to her seat.</p>
<p>“We could just… leave them to it?” Sasha suggested. </p>
<p>Tim and Georgie both rounded on her. </p>
<p>“Annabelle hasn’t been wrong about those two so far. And there’s only so many ways to entice a person into a love confession,” she said. </p>
<p>Tim sighed. “You’re right. I guess we just… let them be.”</p>
<p>The trio agreed, and their last matchmaking scheme was determined: Just leave the idiots alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon was in love with Martin. </p>
<p><em>Yes, obviously</em>.</p>
<p>But Jon was <em>really</em> in love with Martin. </p>
<p>As much as the revelation had snuck up on him-- as much as it twisted and contorted his worldview at first-- it became so simple. Jon was in love with Martin. </p>
<p>Jon felt a low-level warmth and constant awareness of this truth. It was now a sentence in Jon’s book. This is what Jon looked like. This is what Jon acted like. And Jon was in love with Martin. </p>
<p>It didn’t take up his mind, he wasn’t spending his energy dreaming for Martin. It was quiet. And comfortable. Like a cat that trusted you enough to sleep on your lap. </p>
<p>The more Jon thought about it-- the cat on his lap, the gentle, contented hum in the back of his mind-- Jon realized it was no longer something that happened to him. At first, sure. Jon just <em>happened</em> to fall in love with Martin. Things had, somehow, worked out that way. </p>
<p>But not anymore. Jon was no longer at the whims of cupid, or Annabelle Cane, or who-fucking-ever. Jon was in love with Martin because he <em>chose</em> to be in love with Martin. </p>
<p>Somewhere along the way this thing became a library book that he kept renewing, because he did not want the book to end. It was a garden to tend, and Jon was fully prepared to wake up early and water his tomatoes.</p>
<p>It was like this:</p>
<p>When Jon was a teenager, he had found a quote written on the inside cover of a book he had purchased at a thrift shop. The quote was by Ursula K. Le Guin, and it read: “Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”</p>
<p>Jon hadn’t understood that when he was seventeen. Love was an emotion. Love was something you felt, not something you did. How could love be created or remade?</p>
<p>But many years and a heartbreak or two later, Jon understood. Love was an action. It was a conscious decision. Falling in love could be unintentional, sure. But being in love? Remaining in love? </p>
<p>That was a commitment.</p>
<p>It brought to mind all those interviews of elderly couples who had been married for fifty or sixty years. What was the secret? How had they managed it?</p>
<p>The answer was always <em>don’t let love sour. Let it flourish under careful attention, under gentle praise and guidance. Do it on purpose. Do it with resolve.</em></p>
<p>So there it was. </p>
<p>Jon was in love with Martin.</p>
<p>And Martin was looking at him funny. </p>
<p><em>Oh, shit</em>.</p>
<p>“I-I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you say?” Jon asked, and hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. </p>
<p>Judging by Martin’s smle, he absolutely did. Fuck. </p>
<p>“I said do you want to sit down? We’ve been walking for a while. You’ve kinda just been staring off into space this whole time,” Martin chuckled. </p>
<p>Jon was sure his face was turning red. “O-oh, right. Sorry. I had… a lot on my mind.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you did,” Martin smiled. </p>
<p>“Er-- Yes, by the way, sitting sounds good. Let’s find a bench,” Jon said. </p>
<p>Martin and Jon were walking in their favorite park. It was their day off, but they were still only a few blocks from the coffee shop. </p>
<p>Martin directed them to a bench, and they sat down. </p>
<p>It was a weekday, so not many people were at the park. The bench they chose was framed on either side by widely branching trees, giving it a secluded feel. The trees cast spotted shadows on their heads, and the wind blew softly through the leaves. </p>
<p>Martin was looking at Jon with that funny, curious look again. The dangerous one, that made Jon want to do outrageous things that he said he wouldn’t do, like tell Martin he loved him out.</p>
<p>Or ask if he could bake Martin a loaf of bread. </p>
<p>Martin chuckled from beside him, a low, pleasant sound that made Jon feel at ease. </p>
<p>“What?” Jon asked. </p>
<p>Martin shook his head fondly. “I don’t know where you’re going mentally, but you’ve got the oddest expression on your face,” he grinned. </p>
<p>Jon tried to feel self-conscious, but it came out a bit adoring, instead. “What expression?”</p>
<p>Martin laughed and bit his lip. “Okay, hold on. It’s kind of like, this intense, existential… uncertainty? But you’re like, very invested in whatever wild hypothetical is going on in this head of yours. What were you thinking about, anyway?”</p>
<p> Jon was almost certain he was making the aforementioned expression. “Bread. Or gardens. Or library books. Take your pick, really,” he said. </p>
<p>Martin laughed so unhindered and joyfully that Jon could not help but join in. It felt like his body did know how to hold all his happiness, so it bubbled out in gleeful chuckles. When it subsided, and they were both left red-cheeked and grinning, Martin looked at Jon, something unreadable in his gaze. </p>
<p>He chuckled again, then said, “I’m hopeless, you know?” </p>
<p>Jon was still-half smiling when Martin dropped this truly baffling sentiment on him. His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Martin just shrugged, his posture relaxed. “I just love you, is all.” </p>
<p>Jon suddenly found it quite difficult to breathe. Jon’s eyes were wide and locked solely on Martin, who had turned to face forward. </p>
<p>Martin seemed to catch Jon in the corner of his eye, and he whipped around. “Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I don’t want you to think I don’t like being your friend-- I do! I could never ask for anything more than that! And it’s okay that you don’t like me back, I swear I’m just happy to have you in my life! Ugh, I never should have told you, now things are going to be weird between us--”</p>
<p>Jon’s words were caught in his throat, but he finally dislodged the tangled things enough to speak. “Martin,” he said, slow and strangled. “What <em>ever</em> gave you the idea that I don’t like you back?”</p>
<p>Martin froze, his eyes wide. HIs mouth hung slightly open, and he met Jon’s own wide gaze. “You…. what?” his whispered hoarsely. </p>
<p>“Martin. Martin, Martin,” Jon said desperately, gripping the lapels of Martin’s jacket. “I have been in love with you for months,” he confessed, and Martin let out a giddy shudder of a breath, all anticipation and relief. </p>
<p>“What? Really?”</p>
<p>Jon nodded, and Martin chuckled breathlessly, his arms settling on Jon’s shoulders. He pulled Jon into a tight, frantic hug. Jon didn’t hesitate to return it. </p>
<p>They pulled away, their faces mere centimeters apart. Jon could think of nothing he wanted more in that moment than to kiss Martin. </p>
<p>So he did. </p>
<p>Martin made a small, surprised sort of nose, then greedily pulled Jon even closer, until they looked more like entwined trees than separate bodies. </p>
<p>They pulled apart, both laughing. Jon pressed his forehead against Martin’s, his eyes sliding shut. </p>
<p>“I honestly thought you barely paid me any attention. For the longest time, at least,” Martin told him softly.</p>
<p>Jon scoffed. “Martin, even before I liked you, I did nothing but pay attention to you.” His hand was still caressing Martin’s jaw.</p>
<p>Martin chuckled breathlessly. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”</p>
<p>Jon felt panic try to claw its way up his throat. “What? What is it?”</p>
<p>Martin sighed. “Tim is going to be <em>insufferable.</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin blew out a breath, his hand still firmly grasped in Jon’s. </p><p>“We don’t have to, you know,” Jon reminded him.</p><p>Martin shook his head. “Nah. They’ve earned it.”</p><p>He pushed open the door to the coffee shop, and they stepped inside. </p><p>Jon felt sure that every pair of eyes in the building was now instantly watching the two of them. It made his skin itch, but he resisted the urge to fidget and let the curious masses take in the scene before them. </p><p>The shop was dead silent. Then Tim pointed towards the joined hands, shouted “IT HAPPENED!” and the room was filled with exulted cries. </p><p>Tim ran up to them first, and he pulled them both into a hug. When he broke away, he was grinning widely.</p><p>“I’m so happy for you guys. And relieved! It’s been like, a <em>year</em>.” Martin just clapped him on the back. </p><p>Tim excused himself, and then beelined for Nikola and Annabelle. He shook both of their hands, and gave them a lazy salute. “It’s been an honor, ladies,” he said, and Sasha laughed from her seat nearby. </p><p>Georgie and Melanie approached Jon and Martin, Georgie grinning as she came upon them. “Good on you, lads,” she told them. She kissed Martin’s cheek and gave Jon’s hair a ruffle. Melanie just winked at them, and took Georgie’s hand.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Gerry whisper something to Gertrude, and she cackled, a sound which stunned Jon so badly he forgot to blink for half a minute. Martin squeezed his hand to pull him back, and Jon found that Elias was standing in front of them, crying. </p><p>“This is so beautiful. I’m so happy for you guys. You know what? I’m giving everyone a holiday bonus, just for this. You guys are never allowed to break up, by the way,” Elias said. </p><p>A parade of random others (mostly people Jon did not recognize) greeted and congratulated Jon and Martin. They were gracious, of course, but there were only so many times a person could covertly ask “who is this again?” and receive, “no idea, just smile and shake their hand,” in reply before people became suspicious. </p><p>Martin and Jon finally managed to extricate themselves from the impromptu party that had been thrown in their honor, and found a semblance of privacy in the bookstore. </p><p>Jon used the word “semblance” because, well--</p><p>“Hello, Jon,” Daisy said, appearing with Basira from behind a bookshelf. </p><p>“Daisy,” Jon replied pleasantly, effectively masking his surprise. Martin had not been so lucky, and had jumped at the interruption. </p><p>“Glad this,’ Daisy motioned between Jon and Martin, “finally happened,” she smiled. </p><p>“You know, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you, but-” Jon nodded between Daisy and Basira, “-Likewise.”</p><p>Daisy smirked, and lightly punched Jon’s shoulder. It still hurt, but he appreciated the effort. </p><p>Martin looked a bit confused by the whole exchange, and Jon saw Basira look at Martin and shrug in a way he assumed was supposed to be comforting. </p><p>Shortly after, Basira and Daisy left them to their own devices, and Martin leaned back against a bookshelf, staring at Jon in a way he now recognized as fond. </p><p>“What now?” Martin asked. </p><p>Jon leaned his head back and pretended to think. “Now,” he said, “we make coffee. And after that, we go to one of our homes, and we have dinner. And then we do it again tomorrow. And the next day.”</p><p>“How long are we doing this for?”</p><p>“Until you get sick of me,” Jon grinned.</p><p>Martin laughed and pulled Jon to him. “So a long time, then?”</p><p>Jon nodded, against Martin’s chest. “Yeah,” he said. “A long time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shoutout to Karly for suggesting 'potato' when I asked what the most romantic vegetable was. She was dead wrong but it was a hilarious thing to say. The answer is obviously tomato, because of pasta sauce. No further questions. </p><p>Further shout out to all of the folks in my tma discord, you guys are the best. This series would not have been possible without their contributions to the Magnus and Lukas Mythos that we all crafted together, their enthusiasm, and encouragement. </p><p>And thank you to everyone who read, commented, and gave kudos. It means a ton to get so much feedback, and it was all so positive and kind. Y’all are angels :,,)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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